


Waning

by ToMo_onLight



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Knife Wound, M/M, Mutual Pining, Poisoning, Sharing a Bed, can't find beta guess i'll die, do not copy to another site, probably unaccurate medicine and anatomy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26576347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToMo_onLight/pseuds/ToMo_onLight
Summary: Falling in love with Geonhak was like rolling down a hill.It wasn't so much that it didn't hurt, as that Youngjo let it happen willingly.Falling in love with Youngjo was like falling off an open cliff.(Geonhak should have seen it coming, and yet...)As selfish as that might be, Geonhak doesn’t want to annul the engagement.… And yet he’s the one who proposed to do so in the first place.Geonhak is suddenly taken with a formidable urge to punch his past-self in the face. As it is, he settles for a groan, leaning his forehead into the cool glass pane.[A Regency AU]
Relationships: Jin Yonghoon/Kang Hyungu | Kanghyun, Kim Geonhak | Leedo & Lee Seoho, Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Kim Youngjo | Ravn, Kim Youngjo | Ravn & Yeo Hwanwoong, Lee Giwook | Cya/Son Dongmyeong, Lee Keonhee & Son Dongju | Xion, Lee Seoho/Yeo Hwanwoong, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Son Dongju | Xion & Son Dongmyeong
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20
Collections: WEUS Harvest Moon Fest





	1. Embrace

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt : "Youngjo is a brilliant military officer and Geonhak is his loyal lieutenant. They both get missives that they're supposed to marry to keep their career for some reason the government has made up. Youngjo casually suggests they just marry each other."

Even by the standards of a late Friday evening, the office is eerily empty, devoid of any of its usual bustle. Where their subordinates usually livened up the place by the sound of their footsteps and hushed voices filtering mutedly through the walls, there only remains a quiet atmosphere punctuated by the scribbling of the few remaining people. The other higher-ups have gone to prepare for tonight’s ball as well as the upcoming trip, while the others left early, relieved of most of their duties after their recent victory.

It’s the only reason Youngjo so clearly hears Geonhak’s sharp intake of breath as he finishes reading his letter’s content.

"Does he ask the same thing of you?"

“Indeed,” Youngjo drags a hand down his face tiredly as he replies, "it seems we must be engaged men by the end of this night."

Geonhak heaves a resigned sigh. Youngjo can’t disagree with the feeling, rubbing his thumb against the cursive letters, the dark ink gleaming against the stark white paper. The two of them had been winding down after their last meeting when a very flustered courier barged into the room and handed them urgent missives from the royal advisor.

“Couldn’t he come up with a better solution?” Geonhak throws his hands into the air, “To blatantly lie that we’re engaged without even notifying us…”

“Seoho knows we’ll forgive him.”

Geonhak grumbles, “He isn’t wrong.”

He grunts in frustration and drops his head onto the top of his desk with a dull thump. “It’s still a pain.” He complains, voice low and gruff, as Youngjo gives a humorless chuckle. “Do you have any idea who to ask? Actually, you must have a crowd of nobles lined up for your hand in marriage.”

“No offer has me interested so far,” Youngjo answers truthfully.

“What about Dongmyeong? You two are really close.”

“Son Dongmyeong?” Youngjo repeats, shaking his head “He never expressed interest in marriage. We have a running bet he’s having a sordid affair with a secret lover from an enemy kingdom. How about you? Do you have anyone in mind?”

“Seoho?” Geonhak ponders, crossing his arms on the desk and dropping his chin on them. “We get along pretty well, we already live together, and he understands… Well, he understands.”

And Youngjo… he really should be used to this by now. But there’s something deep inside his chest, burning and freezing all at once, spreading outwards like a blooming flower.

 _Disappointment, jealousy_ , his mind half-registers, before he mercilessly, almost unconsciously squashes down his inner turmoil with practiced ease and smiles wryly.

“In any other circumstance, he’d agree, but to marry this soon after his king’s ascension to the throne? That’s political suicide.”

“I’m still going to try. I can’t exactly think of anyone else I could ask.” Geonhak grumbles.

“Me neither,” Youngjo agrees, and the thought comes unbidden. He shouldn’t say it out loud, but…

“We should just marry each other.”

He internally curses as soon as the last syllable crosses his lips and anxiously watches Geonhak’s reaction.

The lieutenant bursts into laughter. “Didn’t you say something about political suicide?”

Youngjo’s hands tighten at his sides, hidden beneath his desk. He should have known his lieutenant would have taken it as a joke, but he’d still had an inkling of hope. He’d never been able to let go of this foolish part of him that wished Geonhak would some day understand how Youngjo feels about him, how Youngjo always felt about him, from the very second the younger man crashed into his life (quite literally).

Once again, Youngjo decidedly buries his mounting disappointment into the abyss of his heart and stands up, crossing the room with a few swooping steps.

“But _Geonhak_ ,” he leans against the lieutenant’s desk, “you’re my only hope! Otherwise I’ll have to ask _Dongju_ , and then I’d be _dead meat._ ”

“Oh, shove off.” Geonhak pitilessly bumps into his shoulder as he moves to stand up as well, heading to the coat hanger at the entrance of their office. “You have tons of friends in the noble circles anyways, I’m sure at least one of them would agree to marry you.”

“Of course they would,” Youngjo agrees, shooting him a self-satisfied smile with a matching smirk, “who could resist this handsome face anyway—argh!”

Geonhak cuts him off by elbowing him in the stomach. Hard.

“That was uncalled for.” Youngjo complains, pouting and rubbing his stomach.

“Your face is uncalled for.” Geonhak counters without missing a beat, but Youngjo knows there is no venom in his tone. He huffs a quiet laugh as Geonhak secures the last clasp of his cloak and falls into pace with his footsteps as they exit the office.

<====}--◦

“No.”

“Please.”

“Absolutely not.” Seoho insists, tone leaving no place for discussion, before bringing the intricate glass of liquor to his lips, the amber liquid swishing around the carved glass.

“You’re the reason I’m stuck in this mess in the first place!” Geonhak argues, indignant.

His friend just shakes his head vehemently, “Geonhak, I love you with my entire heart, but I just became royal advisor to the opposition of, what was it? Oh yeah, _half the entire court_. Forgive me if I can’t afford that right now.”

Geonhak snorts, “Youngjo predicted you’d say something like that.”

“Well, listen to Youngjo. He’s smart, he’s _right_. Besides, it would also be awfully suspicious that I wouldn’t have specified the fact that you were engaged to me.”

“Who am I supposed to ask, then?” He grumbles, rolling his eyes. “You didn’t exactly give me a warning.”

“I don’t know, Dongju?” Seoho suggests casually before hissing at the cuff Geonhak gives him, “Don’t give me that! You know why I’m asking you to do this.”

“No, I don’t. That vague excuse of an explanation you gave us in your missive was entirely unhelpful.”

“I won’t go into the details.” Seoho sighs before lowering his voice. “We can’t trust Arken yet, but we don’t want to arouse suspicion either. They were asking for an arranged marriage between two of our high-ranking officers and theirs. You and Youngjo are our only active unmarried officers. We can’t marry you off to their men, especially not our two most sought-out strategists, but we needed a valid excuse.”

Geonhak blinks, “Why officers? Wouldn’t royal family branch members suffice?”

“They say it’s tradition, for them, but it does not bode well. They might be after revenge, or worse,” he adds, voice serious, “information.”

Geonhak grimaces. Their relationship with the neighbour kingdom was complicated, and he knew bits and pieces of their convoluted history from mandatory military academy classes he mostly slept through.

“Sounds complicated. So we’re going to ally ourselves to them despite that?”

Seoho sighs as if the weight of the world rested upon his shoulders, “It’s too much of a risk to antagonize them by outright refusing. Besides,” he drops his voice into a whisper, ”the second prince is working to overthrow his sister.”

“The Queen?”

“Her majesty Lee Gi-An herself.” Seoho confirms. “We can only hope Lee Giwook ascends to power, lest the kingdom falls into ruin under her foolish reign.”

Geonhak has heard of the siblings. Lee Gi-An, elder daughter, cruel and frivolous. Lee Giwook, younger son, tactical and kind. There were no odder pair of siblings, and for their differences, they fought, harsh and fierce.

“And if he doesn’t succeed?”

Seoho’s gaze glints with a hint of danger, “Oh, he will.”

Geonhak raises an eyebrow, but Seoho drops the subject, so he turns to their surroundings.

The ballroom is as extravagant as it comes, walls padded with deep red velvet surrounded by intricate patterns, delicately sculpted and coated in gold. People are gathered at the center of it, ladies in elegant dresses swaying to the rhythm of the violins and cellos and gentlemen wearing sharp suits decorated with badges and tassels; the whole crowd illuminated by the soft candlelight of the large overhanging chandelier.

Arken nobles mingle with the Bridgia circles, no doubt making small talk and discussing possible trades. Geonhak knew they wouldn’t be here for long; they were here solely for appearances sakes, to escort them back to their kingdom for further negotiations next week.

A small crowd is forming on the other end of the ballroom, and Geonhak spots the man of the hour.

General Kim Youngjo, brilliant strategist, mastermind behind the victory of the Bridgia-Arken army. After the merge of their two armies, he quickly took control of the main attacking force and operated flawlessly, so much so that even against Emnes’ much bigger army, they still got by with an overwhelming victory. Even Geonhak, weeks after their final battle, still couldn’t quite believe what his general had been capable of.

Youngjo’s reputation, this night, seemed to precede him, as nobles from Bridgia and Arken alike crowd him.

“Like a pack of hyenas.” Seoho mutters, taking another sip.

On cue, a noble with a deep blue accoutrement detaches from the rest and bows deeply, taking Youngjo’s hand to bring it to his lips. He’s massive, easily towering Youngjo, whose size was already more imposing than most, with delicate facial features and a similar friendly aura. They exchange a few words, and something he says incites Youngjo to swivel his head around, searching for someone. The general excuses himself from the crowd and with a tilt of the head, invites the noble to follow him as he makes his way towards…

“Huh, he must be pretty high in ranking.” Seoho mutters as the general marches up to Dongju, who’s been hanging around the king’s throne since the celebratory ball started. There’s a flash of recognition in Dongju’s eyes when he spots them.

Geonhak lifts an eyebrow, “Definitely high ranking.” He repeats as Dongmyeong joins them, not a second later, and the four of them start conversing.

Geonhak must’ve been missed something, because when he turns around, Seoho is at the prince’s side, chatting with a tall, purple-clothed officer with jet-black hair and defined eyebrows.

He figures the man would have been one of the candidates for him to marry, if not for Seoho’s paranoia (healthy vigilance, he calls it). They would have the chance to talk on the way to Arken. It’s a one-day trip to the neighbour kingdom, on horseback, and Geonhak knows at least he and Youngjo will escort the king there, next Saturday. He’s caught wind of the Son twins accompanying them for a visit, but there’s probably some form of politics he’s not getting, in that decision.

At some point in their conversation, Youngjo takes a step to the right to allow the man with the velour suit to stand next to him and, on bending down slightly, whisper into his ear. From where he’s standing, Geonhak can see the general laugh at something he said, and his uniform feels slightly too tight, all of a sudden. He loosens his tie and averts his gaze without knowing exactly why.

(Just in time to miss how Youngjo turns to him, gaze soft and intense and everything in between.)

“Why, isn’t it General Kim Youngjo’s Lieutenant?”

Startled, he tries not to show his flinch too much and turns to the new voice. He comes face to face with an Arkan officer.

“Kim Geonhak.” Geonhak nods, “And you are..?”

“General Ko Sang-In.” The noble introduces himself with an upturn of the lips, “It’s a pleasure.”

“Likewise.” Geonhak replies with a curt nod, barely able to contain his wince. The man’s voice is annoyingly loud, and from his peripheral vision, he can see other nobles from Arken peering at them behind their fans.

“I have heard much about you, sir Kim, and it was with much surprise that I learned that you have recently gotten engaged.”

Geonhak resists the urge to frown at the general’s forwardness.

“It was a surprise to me as well. It happened just this afternoon.” Geonhak answers, voice not hinting at any lie. It was, after all, a half-truth. Judging by the growing whispers around him, it must have been a surprise to everyone else as well.

“Oh?” Ko Sang-in’s expression turns interested as well as something more… sinister, “And who, pray tell, is the one to have startled you so with their proposal?”

Geonhak’s thought process falters at the bold question. From the corner of his eye, he can recognize Seoho, walking towards them with the clear intent of helping him get out of his situation, but he’s too far, too late. He opens his mouth to answer before any suspicions arise, “It’s…”

He inwardly curses because Seoho is too slow. Geonhak’s hesitation is shady enough, and he has to answer before Seoho can barge into the conversation and deflect. Who was he supposed to name? Who else could agree to marrying him?

_“We should just marry each other.”_

“Kim Youngjo.” He blurts out, then freezes in tandem with the abrupt silence settling around him. Seoho, who’s finally close enough to hear what’s going on, stops abruptly. Geonhak can see the cogs turning in his head and his eyes widen at the realization and even as Geonhak shoots him a silent plea, he turns on his heels and marches towards Youngjo with a singular focus.

_Damn it, Seoho._

“The general? _Your_ general” Sang-in replies after half a minute of silence, barely able in keeping his astonishment in check as harsh whispers surround him anew, “I suppose it’s not unheard of, but for someone of his heritage, to marry down…”

And Geonhak… hadn’t even considered that. He’s been Youngjo’s friend for so long, it got to the point where their original difference in status became only a footnote in their relationship.

He internally winces at the implications, regret hitting him head-on. Matters like this spread like wildfire, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the whole kingdom knows of it by tomorrow morning. The worse thing is, he wouldn’t bear the brunt of the consequences of his words. His name doesn’t come with strings attached, and it didn’t matter with whom he chose to make connections. Youngjo, however, is a different story.

Before he can retort, a familiar hand lands on his shoulder, and his thoughts come to a full stop.

“So you’ve announced our engagement before I could?” Youngjo declares, tone playful, for the crowd around them to hear. Geonhak hopes his entrance is distracting enough, because he can feel a warmth creeping up his neck. “Excuse me, gentlemen, let us have a word.”

And with that apology, his general gently tugs on his sleeve to guide him towards the other balcony, away from the gossip that is surely taking place all over the ballroom. Geonhak wouldn’t be surprised if by now, already half the party was aware of their “engagement”.

“I’m sorry,” He squeaks, as soon as he’s certain they’re out of earshot. It does not help that his entire body feels too warm, especially his ears and the back of his neck. “I don’t know what came over me, he asked who I was engaged to and he was insistent. I didn’t have time to think. And you—”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Youngjo says, and stops as they reach the marble railing, turning around to face him. His face is devoid of emotion, but it does nothing to slow Geonhak’s frantic heart, and there’s no way Youngjo can’t hear the roaring thunder pounding against his eardrums. “I’m not mad, that general must’ve been pushy, and you reacted.”

“Right,” Geonhak hastily agrees, though a part of him feels… wrong, somehow. “We just have to pretend to be fiancés for a few weeks. After the alliance is solidified, we can annul the engagement.”

“… That sounds like a plan,” Youngjo nods, and even though there is no ire in his eyes, the downward pinch at the corner of his mouth does not escape Geonhak, “Keep up appearances until Seoho gives us the all clear, then we can drop the act.”

Geonhak sighs, both in relief and in dread. He didn’t think Youngjo would be mad at him, but he can’t blame him. Best friends or not, he did just chuck their reputation into the deepest trench of hell. “I’ll go tell Seoho, he’ll figure out how to make this credible.”

Geonhak needs to fix this.

He moves to leave, but barely makes it two steps before stopping and looping back around as smoothly as possible. The general turns to him, puzzled, “What is it?”

“They’re all looking at us. The Arken nobles especially.” Geonhak explains, sheepish. “I.. might have hesitated too long, when that general asked who I was engaged to.”

Youngjo scowls, noticing all the curious gazes intently fixed on the two of them.

“We need to clear those suspicions, if we want the future alliance negotiations to go without a hitch.”

“How?” Geonhak asks, question laced with uncertainty. He hopes that if he stands here with Youngjo long enough, they’ll get bored and turn to other matters. Though ‘hope’ is the keyword, in this situation. He’s pretty sure there isn’t better gossip than one of the most eligible bachelors of the kingdom getting engaged out of the blue, to his own Lieutenant, a former commoner, no less.

There’s a moment of silence before Youngjo breaks it.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do,” Geonhak replies without missing a beat, “with my life.”

Youngjo pauses, examining him closely, “Can I hug you?”

Geonhak blinks at the inquiry. They do oftentimes hug, usually, though he’s always the one to initiate it. “Go ahead.”

“Stop me,” Youngjo whispers, “if you’re uncomfortable.”

And without further ado, he steps towards Geonhak and gently sets his hands around the lieutenant’s elbows, with such slow movements that Geonhak can only stare in confusion, because _that’s not how a hug works_ , _Youngjo_. Then Youngjo tilts his head, leaning in one millimeter at a time, and Geonhak’s breath catches in his throat, every single muscle in his body locking in place, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide as every neuron in his brain short-circuits.

Youngjo stops when there’s only a centimeter separating their foreheads, and the space between them is filled with so much static it’s almost tangible. Distantly, Geonhak registers their position, and after a moment, it finally clicks.

From the view of the ballroom, they’re angled as such that it must seem like they’re kissing.

So, despite the loud and clear thumping against his temples and the warmth creeping up his neck, Geonhak forces his body to relax, and slowly, hesitantly, circles Youngjo’s slimmer waist with his arms. Geonhak exhales carefully, fruitlessly trying to repress the shudder running through him.

 _It’s for appearances,_ he tells himself, _calm down. It’s just a hug._ But it appeases neither his mind nor his heart. He feels jittery, and he doesn’t know whether it’s because of Youngjo’s carefully blank expression, or the pairs of eyes fixed on them.

Though Youngjo’s own eyes do not help. The duke has always had expressive eyes, but up close, when he’s obviously unpleased, they are striking. Geonhak would trust him even if he held a sword over his heart, but his gaze is somehow sharper, like a knife at Geonhak’s throat.

It must’ve shown on his face, because Youngjo’s expression shifts to a reassuring smile, one that Geonhak is all too familiar with.

A few seconds lapse, and Youngjo slips out from their embrace. Every square inch of skin where he and Youngjo had held onto each other through their uniform buzzes like beacons in the dark of his mind.

Dazed, Geonhak takes a few seconds to recollect himself, shooting a look to the crowd below. The nobles have averted their gaze, and that gives them a chance to escape.

“I—uh,” Geonhak starts at the crack in his voice, “I’ll see you, tomo- Monday morning, at the office.”

And at Youngjo’s answering nod, Geonhak promptly books it, leaving the balcony to weave between the whispering crowd.

In the haze of his mind, he half-registers Seoho calling out his name, but he doesn’t stop.

He can’t focus on anything but the need to get out of here.

As well as the stare Youngjo directed at him as they held each other on the balcony.


	2. Acceptance

Ever since his coronation, Hwanwoong has been swamped with work, so it’s become a habit at this point to spend his early nights holed up in his office. Sometimes, his steward would join him, and sometimes, Dongju would crash and sleep over the night. Sometimes, both of them would spend their evening keeping him company in his office, although when that was the case, he would hardly get any work done (not that he minded it).

But tonight, Hwanwoong expected someone else.

“He’s late.” Dongju remarks, swirling a cube of sugar into his cup of scalding hot tea, which Hwanwoong doesn’t understand how he consumes without burning his tongue. Keonhee was there earlier, but he was called to deal with some trouble among the staff.

“You say that as if he had an appointment with us.” He mumbles, examining the document he’s supposed to sign, or perhaps approve of, he’s not too sure. The evening had been tiring, and he might have downed more alcohol than he should’ve, so the words are blurring together.

“I’m pretty curious to see what he’s going to do about the engagement,” Dongju admits between two sips, “It’s so sudden! It feels as if he’s been pining for so long, the change is bound to be dramatic.”

“Pining? His love for Geonhak is _way_ beyond pining, it’s like the whole forest. He’s foresting.”

Dongju blinks at him incredulously and okay. That made more sense in his head. He might still be more drunk than he’d like to admit. Just as he stamps his approval onto the document he’d been trying to decipher, he hears hurried footsteps in the hall, and the door flies open.

“Woongie! Dongju!”

_There he is._

They share a knowing glance as Dongju carefully sets his saucer onto the table. Just in time, too, as Youngjo drops onto the couch heavily, and he surely would have spilled his tea if he was still holding it. The general slumps against the backrest with a groan.

“Kill me now.”

“What’s with the moping?” Dongju scoots closer, plopping a hand on the general’s back, “You’re engaged to the subject of your affection! Congratulations!”

Youngjo glares at him before shifting and dropping his forehead onto the heir’s shoulder.

“It’s not exactly a real engagement.” Youngjo grumbles, and Hwanwoong foretells a headache incoming. “I’m about 90% sure Seoho already told you everything.”

“He only told us the basics of it.” Hwanwoong admits, “He ran off to find Geonhak, after that trick you pulled on the balcony.”

“You didn’t actually kiss him, did you?” Xion pipes up.

Youngjo turns a questioning gaze to him, “How do you figure?”

Hwanwoong scoffs, “Easy. If you did, you’d be drunk right now. Or missing. Or both, and then we would’ve had to organize a search party for you, so you don’t do anything foolish.”

Youngjo opens his mouth, then closes it, and Hwanwoong smirks. He couldn’t refute. “We didn’t kiss.” He admits instead, “It was more like a hug, anyways, but you do realize we only did that for the sake of appearances?”

“It doesn’t have to be that deep,” A new voice pipes up. The three occupants turn their head to the entrance to see Keonhee, Hwanwoong’s steward, stride in, “you missed a perfect opportunity to declare your undying love for him.”

“Easier said than done.” Youngjo laments, “You try telling your best friend, fake fiancé and crush of three years that you’ve actually been in love with him all this time.”

Keonhee rolls his eyes, “Well if you’re not done being mister dramatic, I’ll be—” and promptly hauls Dongju up, soliciting a cry of complaint, “stealing dukeling here.”

“Hey! My tea will get cold!” He protests, pouting at the steward, who only gives him a sharp, complicit look.

“The shipment from Jiran is here.”

Dongju’s eyes light up immediately, “The one with the chocolate?”

“Yes!” Keonhee confirms, and immediately loses balance as Dongju drags him to the door.

“Hurry up, you slowpoke!”

Hwanwoong laughs heartily as his childhood friend pulls his steward through the corridor, their bickering echoing through the royal walls. Staff and security have long since gotten used to their antics, but it never got old to hear guards fumble to get out of the way of those two menaces.

“I was a little worried when they told me the new steward would be my age, but he’s really good.”

Youngjo snorts, “He and Dongju seem to get along.”

“Like a house on fire.” Hwanwoong nods, shaking his head with a fond, exasperated smile, “But back to the subject at hand.”

Youngjo sighs, shifting on the couch until he’s taking the whole length of it, head against the armrest. There’s silence for a few moments before Hwanwoong makes the executive decision that his paperwork can wait. He rearranges the piles into something semi-coherent (tomorrow’s Hwanwoong will look through them, though he is absolutely going to regret this) and makes his way over to the couch.

“Scoot over.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“I’m going to sit on you.”

“Go ahead—” Youngjo is cut off by a wheeze as Hwanwoong unapologetically drops all his weight onto his middle.

“I warned you.” Hwanwoong smirks even as Youngjo groans and shimmies to lie on his side, giving Hwanwoong a space to slide onto the edge of the couch and lean his back against the larger man’s stomach. “So, you’re betrothed to your Lieutenant.”

“I am.” Youngjo confirms, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“And remind me again, why it’s the end of the world?” Hwanwoong inquires, half-tempted to just slam his forehead against the wall, repeatedly. As much as his childhood friend was a genius, Kim Youngjo could really be dense sometimes, “You’ve been in love with him ever since you first met.”

“He likes someone else.”

Huh, that’s new.

“Who?” Hwanwoong asks, racking his brain for possible answers.

“Your advisor.”

Hwanwoong pauses, then bursts out in relieved laughter. “Seoho? I doubt it. They’re close, but more like partners in crime than anything else. I overheard their conspiration to commit arson at some point. Something about a corrupt noble threatening to overthrow me.”

“Now you’re just pulling my leg.” Youngjo deadpans.

“I am not. Besides, even if that’s the case. Seoho wouldn’t like him back.”

Youngjo frowns, “How could you be so sure?”

Hwanwoong heaves a long sigh. For how good Youngjo is when it comes to politics, court relationships, and people in general, he seemed to have a talent at missing what’s happening directly under his nose.

Or maybe he’s achieved mastery of the act of denial. He could certainly deny his feelings for Geonhak to himself.

“Do you really think Seoho would risk everything and fully support my ascension to the throne, despite the protests that I was too young, just out of kindness of heart?”

Youngjo blinks, “Yes..? I figured he just had a lot of faith in your abilities.”

Hwanwoong now _really_ feels the urge to smash his head into something. His desk, perhaps. Destroy his paperwork at the same time, two birds one stone.

He doesn’t say anything, just fixes his childhood friend with a nonplussed stare. He can practically hear the cogs turning in Youngjo’s head at his words.

“Wait. You don’t mean..? You and Seoho??”

Hwanwoong nods.

“Wait _what_?!”

Unbelievable.

◦--{====>

“When did that happen?” Youngjo asks, mind reeling with the realization, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He did notice the king and his advisor getting more comfortable with each other, but he figured they just got closer during the war, put aside all their differences.

Hwanwoong shrugs, “While you were away. We figured it would be obvious to you, Seoho isn’t that touchy with just anybody, you know?”

Youngjo nods blankly, inciting Hwanwoong to give a defeated shake of the head.

“This isn’t about my advisor and I.” Hwanwoong changes the subject, “What’s stopping you from confessing?”

“I’m a senior general, as well as his superior.” Youngjo states, sitting back up and bringing his knees against his chest to lean his chin on them, “It’d feel pretty wrong, to start a relationship with him, that’d just be a bad power trip.”

And didn’t that feel awful, in retrospect? When Seoho had come whispering to him what Geonhak had said, he’d felt nothing short of elation. As he took sight of Geonhak’s blank face, which usually indicated he was freaking out and trying very hard not to let it show, it quickly gave away to guilt (and heartbreak).

Geonhak is engaged to him, and he didn’t do it because he liked him back. He did it out of pressure, and Youngjo was his best shot at getting out of his predicament. He can’t let it get to his head.

“Youngjo,” Hwanwoong frowns, “That’s not abusing your power. You genuinely like him. It’s different from wanting power over someone.”

“He was trembling, you know? Yesterday, on the balcony.” Youngjo whispers, wincing at the memory.

He was too focused on Geonhak, on the hands around his waist and the depth of his Lieutenant’s eyes to notice the way he unconsciously worried at his lower lip, the shudder that ran through him when he realized what Youngjo was doing. He tried to reassure him, to wordlessly communicate to him that it would be okay, but by then, it was too late.

The way he shivered, earlier, as he reluctantly reciprocated Youngjo’s hold, haunted his thoughts. He was used to teasing Geonhak, but that was different. He never imagined his lieutenant could blush so hard, in mortification, rather than humble embarrassment.

Hwanwoong frowns, “I know you, Youngjo, and I know you wouldn’t touch a single hair on his head without his consent.”

“You did ask his permission, didn’t you?” Hwanwoong inquired, then continues after Youngjo’s nod, “Then that might not mean anything. It was pretty chilly, yesterday, he could be shaking from the cold, for all you know.” He argues, even as Youngjo shoots him an unimpressed look, “Besides, I’d say unofficially, he’s the superior, between you two.”

At that, Youngjo gives him an indignant shove that almost throws him off the couch, but he plants his feet against the ground and laughs at his friend’s childish gesture, “You know I’m right. Fearsome general or not, you’re still a softie.”

He huffs but doesn’t deny Hwanwoong’s words.

“I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t like me that way.” Youngjo replies matter of factly.

Hwanwoong remarks, “You haven’t even told him how you feel.”

“We’ve been friends for so long, Woong,” he sighs mournfully, “how do I know if declaring my feelings for him won’t make it weird?”

“He could reject you and still stay friends with you, and you’ll have gotten that off your chest.” Hwanwoong starts. “If that’s all it takes for him to break off your friendship, then he doesn’t deserve it.”

“Hwanwoong!” Youngjo cries, shocked, “How could you say that?”

“I’m serious!” Hwanwoong retorts, “You’ve been friends for years, even back when he was a commoner, and helped him with so much. He’d be a fool to deny your feelings.”

“It’s not that simple, Woong.” Youngjo shakes his head, “I can’t risk our friendship like that, it’s much too precious to me. I’m okay with being a coward, when it comes to this.”

Hwanwoong stays silent for a few moments, mulling over his words.

“So you’re okay with not saying anything about your romantic feelings for him?”

Youngjo pauses for a moment. There’s something within that aches with the phantom pain of rejection, of a repressed longing he’s long since learned to brush off. But there’s also something sharper, the vicious fear of losing what he has, a hungry beast clawing at the deepest cavity of his chest.

He’s making peace with his place in Geonhak’s life. He’s had three years to do so.

“As long as I can stay by his side. That is enough, for me.”

(He doesn’t know if it’s a lie. It doesn’t feel like one.)

<====}--◦

Seoho doesn’t get paid enough for this. Granted, he doesn’t need pay to help his friends through their life crises, but this comes close.

Granted, if he _knew_ how his best friend’s general felt about him, this would have been solved years ago, but how was he supposed to know? He knew Youngjo from his friendship with Geonhak, and then once he got to know the king better, he knew Youngjo through the stories from their childhood he would confide him.

He didn’t actually find out Youngjo’s feelings for Geonhak until after the war, when the general and the lieutenant were back, and Hwanwoong started complaining about Youngjo and his misery at Geonhak’s decision to live with him.

If he knew, he would’ve chucked the lieutenant at his general, instead of inviting him to his manor. It would have saved him this utter headache.

“Geonhak!” He calls.

The lieutenant stops and turns around just long enough for Seoho to catch up with him before continuing.

“Geonhak!” Seoho calls, startled as he stumbles to follow his friend. “Wait! Where are you going that needs you so urgently?”

And promptly fumbles in his steps as Geonhak stops abruptly.

“I, uh…”

Seoho raises an eyebrow, “You don’t know, do you?”

Geonhak snarls and turns away, dragging Seoho by his wrist. “Away from these stupid Arkans.”

Seoho sighs and lets the Lieutenant tug him to a street near their mansion. The Lieutenant was heading the right way but took the wrong street. It was the one near the military training center, figures.

Spotting an empty alley, he plants his feet into the ground, violently veers left, and yanks his friend along as he yelps in surprise.

“Seoho what—”

“What was that, with Youngjo?” His eyes narrow, “He didn’t force himself onto you, did he?”

That’s a stretch. Seoho’s 99.9% sure that’s the very last thing Kim “I Will Endlessly Pine For You If That’s What It Takes” Youngjo would ever do. Because if he did, guilt would eat him alive before Seoho could murder him.

“What?” Geonhak asks incredulously before his confused expression morphs into one of horror, “No! He warned me, and I could’ve pushed him away at any time! He would never.”

“Good.” Seoho knew this, but he wanted to hear it from Geonhak, and the utter conviction in which he said it just proved it. “Then what’s bothering you so much?”

“It’s nothing, okay?” Geonhak grumbles, running his hand through his hair. “We’ll be engaged for a little while, and when this mess with Arkan is dealt with, we can dissolve the engagement and go back to normal.”

The more he’s talking, the more Seoho’s frown deepens. “Do you dislike being betrothed to him so much?”

Geonhak tilts his head in confusion. “No! Of course not! It’s just that the entire noble circle knows, and it must be such a pain to be engaged to a former commoner.”

“Geonhak,” Seoho cuts him, harsh, “do you think so lowly of Youngjo to assume he’d reject you because of your origins.”

“It’s not his opinion of me that I’m concerned about, it’s the other nobles. His own reputation is going to _tank_ Seoho, even more since I’m his direct subordinate. You should’ve seen how he looked when they were watching us…”

There’s… a lot to unpack here, but he ignores it in favour of the more important matter, “Then, you don’t mind being engaged to him?”

Geonhak frowns, “Well, no, I don’t mind at all. It hardly affects me, to marry him. We’re usually together when we travel anyways, since I’m his lieutenant. I just doubt he feels the same."

“You don’t mind being engaged to him,” Seoho confirms, “but do you like it?”

“’What—”

“Suppose none of it matters,” Seoho cuts him off, “Not your status, not his inheritance. Not his position, nor yours, as his subordinate.” At Geonhak’s blank nod, Seoho continues, “Don’t think about the reason for your engagement, ask yourself, do you like the idea of spending your life at his side?”

Seoho watches his friend blink and plows on, “Do you love him, Geonhak?”

He can practically hear his train of thoughts come to a screeching halt.

A satisfied smile overtakes his features as he tugs a quiet and shell-shocked Geonhak towards their home.

<====}--◦

Before Geonhak met Youngjo, he never considered the possibility of romance. He never had the time to think about it, leaving it as an afterthought to survival. Stay alive, today, then tomorrow, and the day after that. Then, he joined the royal guard, and it was training, training, and more training, with barely enough time to catch his breath, lest he falls behind those whose heritage allowed them their status in the army, rather than their prowess.

Suffice to say, the most thought he’d given to the idea of marriage was when he and Seoho were discussing the prospect, and that he might find someone amongst the nobles, or even meet a commoner, to marry once he was settled down.

So, when Seoho spells his current situation out for him, the exact implications hit him all at once, and it leaves him scrambling to get his thoughts back in order.

Because he was engaged to _Kim Youngjo_ , which he _did like_. Ever since they met, down to his first impression, he’d thought Youngjo was nice. The duke carried his title with elegance and compassion, rather than entitlement and greed, and Geonhak was instantly taken by his grace. Then Geonhak joined the kingdom’s main forces, and Youngjo was his commander. It should’ve been strange, but it wasn’t. When they were coming up with tactics and mock scenarios, he kept taking Geonhak by surprise with his sharp mind and creative strategies, and Geonhak found his admiration of him grow.

So Youngjo was kind, compassionate and smart. It also didn’t hurt that his eyes were so expressive, and his body was just strong enough to hug Geonhak’s own. And his lips…

Oh.

Geonhak rolls over to bury his rapidly heating face into his pillow.

Their earlier interaction on the balcony comes back to mind, and he remembers how little distance there was between the two of them, how Youngjo could have, if he had leant just a little closer, pressed his pretty pink lips to his own.

He wanted to kiss Youngjo.

As soon as those words solidify in his thoughts, he can’t lie down anymore. The soft fabric of his covers become suffocating, and a deep need to move runs through his limbs.

Getting up, he tugs on the robe on the ottoman adorning the front of his bed and walks to his window. Unlocking the latch, he pushes the glass pane open, reveling in the whiff of fresh air and light humidity that immediately wafts into the room. He lets the cold set onto his skin, appeasing the restlessness that fills him to the bone.

He wants to train, wants to settle into the familiar sword stances and routines his muscles have committed to memory, but it is far too late, and Seoho would kill him, the next day, if he learns, which he undoubtedly will, if Geonhak decides to yet again, go train in the middle of the night.

He likes the feeling. Sue him.

For now, he settles on sensing, on the soft glow of moonlight illuminating the city, on the gentle song of crickets, on the fresh breeze on his face and on the scent of flowers from the mansion’s garden. It helps his thoughts slow down, and soon, he knows the answer to Seoho’s question.

Geonhak recalls the kind smile and outstretched hand Youngjo had offered him, even as he was about to threaten the noble to rob his money for food a few minutes earlier. He thinks of the hours they spent training, beating each other to the ground until there were no holes in either of their defenses. He remembers the hours spent bouncing ideas off of each other, up until the moon was high in the nocturnal sky, when their ideas were barely coherent anymore, and resulted in unconventional, but surprisingly effective tactics.

There are million more instances he can think of, when recalling having Youngjo at his side, and he finds he wishes for more. He finds himself wanting to be at Youngjo’s side, even in times of peace, when they didn’t meet unless it was for work. Especially at times of peace, that he usually spent training anyways, because his body was far too used to having to move.

“ _Do you love him, Geonhak?”_ Seoho had asked.

 _Yes_ , Geonhak wants to answer. His answer didn’t change, he loved him before this realization, but now it is clear in his head.

He loves Youngjo. He wants to spend the rest of his life at the side of the kind soul who found him, three years ago. As selfish as that might be, considering their difference in status, he doesn’t want to annul the engagement.

… And yet he’s the one who proposed to do so in the first place.

Geonhak is suddenly taken with a formidable urge to punch his past-self in the face. As it is, he settles for a groan, leaning his forehead into the cool glass pane.

“What am I going to do?” He asks to no one in particular, Seoho snoring away in the adjacent room.

There is no reply. The full moon in the sky stares at him, unblinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once I read that it's alright to submit an incomplete fic to the fest, I was very much relieved.  
> To be honest, university has been kicking my ass, and I always underestimate how much time it would take for me to complete an assignment.  
> I'll take some time to go over the last two chapters, as they are mostly done, but a lot of plot points deviated from the original plan (I swear, it just happened, I don't even know how ;-;)  
> Please be patient with me ^^'


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